The African Thumb Harp
by Tara22
Summary: The Sound of Music: Willow and Tara style!
1. Chapter 1

The fic that you are about to read is a collaborative effort.

Urnofosiris, vix84 and myself have spent the last few days creating this interesting retelling of the 'Sound of Music.' Inspired by an afternoon viewing of the original motion picture (and a few dozen bottles of malted beverage.)

The universe that you are about to enter is so extremely alternate that it frightens even me. Hence the Alternate Alternate Universe (AAU). We invite you on this fantastic journey into the 'Sound of Music.'

A few things to explain: You can TRY to sing to the songs using the original music, but note that we used poetic license. Songs are in italics. So give it a go, but if it hurts we enclose a disclaimer for our own protection. (disclaimer) -- see it is enclosed, now read on. Also we've altered the cast a bit to make things work. And to follow the tradition of kitten fic a few additional characters might sing a gay tune.

**The African Thumb Harp**

Authors: Tara22, vix84 & Urn of Osiris

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the original characters created by Joss (the shriveled penis) Whedon or the other #$& at ME. We also totally ripped off the original 'Sound of Music' concept. If you are/were a fan PLEASE forgive us. We meant no harm.

Rating:PG-13 For thighs and lisps

Feedback: If you survive we'd love to hear what you have to say. (sips malt beverage)

Pertinent info: We actually spent the time creating a cast list if you care.

Maria - Willow  
Mother Abbess – Miss Heteronski  
Captain Von Trapp - Tara  
Baroness Schreider - Riley  
Liesl – Dawn  
Rolfe – Janice  
Friedrich – Spike  
Brigitta – Cordy  
Louisa – Buffy  
Kurt – Sven  
Marta – Xander  
Gretl – Anya

**-- Miss Heteronski's Seminary for Feminine Reclamation. Salzburg, Austria. 2004**

The wind blows through the corridors of the institution. A redhead struggles in the grasp of a buxom school matron. Her thoughts swirl with confusion as she reads the plaque on the door; 'QUESTIONING'.

"I'm not questioning! I know exactly how gay I am." Her thin frame pushes through the opening door, thrusting her into the room.

She takes a deep breath, focusing her heart and soul, and promptly bursts into song.

"_My thighs are alive with the sound of music  
Juxtaposed around your ears  
Your hills fill my hands with the sound of music  
your ecstasy,what I long to hear."_

She twirls around.

"_They think all I am is some unleashed  
bitch in heat, fresh escaped from the pound  
My heart yearns for love deep and pure  
Why can't the world still go round?  
To squeak like a mouse when it sees the panting pussy  
Salivating for its prey  
To sing through the night  
Like a girl discovering she is gay."_

She lingers on the last word.

"_I go to your hills when my hands are lonely  
I know I will hear what I heard before  
My thighs will be blessed  
With the sound of music  
And I'll sing once more."_

The redhead opens her eyes to gaze upon the shocked audience. Everyone turns toward the head table where Miss Heteronski sits.

"At least she's past denial," the graying woman chuckles with the co-director. They peer at the paper before them, 'URGENT request for au pair: Traveling for business, need qualified person ASAP.' and then up at the redhead. "Surely she's qualified for something," the matron mutters.

Willow folds her arms and waits. "Well?"

"So impatient, Miss Rosenberg," the matron says, a scowl blossoming on her taut features. "I called you in here to discuss your future. You are the most challenging and," she pauses disdainfully, "passionate student we have had here. This seminary helps ladies realize the error of their ways and find a place in 21st century post-patriarchal society. When your mother brought you here all those years back, Willow, she asked us to straighten out your thinking. It is obvious that she was right to place you in our care. You have been insubordinate and highly unresponsive to our treatment…"

"Now now, Miss Heteronski," Mr Puddlewife, a bulbous-headed man, exclaims vehemently. "You give an impassioned yet repetitive speech. Why, I'll bet Miss Rosenberg knows it off by heart!"

Willow looks grateful for his interruption.

"At long last we found a job for you. Willow, you will be an au pair for the respected Maclay family. You must have heard of the recent tragedy. Gosh, all of those rolls of parchment, and that skidsteer…" He pauses, taking his hat off his head, and then holds it over his heart, sniffling. "Yes, it's a real tragedy."

The redhead eyes him suspiciously. "Let me get this straight, so to speak. To 'cure me', you plan to send me to the house of a beautiful, young grieving widow?"

"Uh," Mr Puddlewife bites his lip, "yes. Pretty much."

She grins.

_888888888888888_

Willow strolls down the cobble-stone streets of Salzburg until she reaches the bus-stop. She shivers on the stone bench, wishing she were adorned in something other than the flimsy, bag-like, regulatory dress of the institution. She brightens and removes an Apple laptop from her leather satchel, gratified as the electronic heat penetrates her thighs.

A fisherman looks askance as she quietly begins to sing.

"_What will this day be like, I wonder  
What will my future be, I wonder... _

_It could be so exciting  
To be out (and proud) in the world and free  
My heart will be wildly rejoicing  
My life will be a menagerie!"_

She drops her computer and satchel to display fervent spirit fingers.

"_I've always longed for my own life  
But nobody ever really cared  
Now here I am facing a house full of kids  
And bloody hell I'm scared! _

_A chick with seven children...  
What's so fearsome about that?"_

She steps onto the bus.

"_Seven? Who can care for seven?  
I was brought up on spanking over the knee  
Ignoring my parents' every word –  
Those shmucks – they never listened to me. _

_Somehow I will control them  
Impressionable minds, could be fun!  
All seven children, Goddess bless them,  
Will behave or learn how to run. _

_As for that mourning woman  
She'll get over it in time  
At least by the winter solstice  
Wishful thinking means she could be mine. _

_I'll help her replace those black clothes  
With color, like my own  
I have confidence in paisley skirts, rainbow toe-socks, plaid shoes, denim jeans, fruit-patterned shirts, velvet corsettes laced tightly up the spine ..."_

Her babble continues as the bus hurtles through the dark streets, toward the mansion.

When Willow approaches the front door she raises a hand to knock, and is surprised when it opens before she touches it. "Magic," she thinks aloud.

"Miss Rosenberg, I presume?"

"One nubile Wiccan, bearing fruit for the mistress." She raises the Apple laptop bag.

"Oh, you're here for the PFLAG meeting?" A woman, who was decidedly not Madame Maclay, winks.

"Estrella! Does everyone from the seminary end up here?" Willow inquires.

"Seminary? Are you PFLAG or Rosenberg?"

"Rosenberg, but I fully support every PFLAG effort since 1973." The redhead grins. "I recognized you instantly. Miss Heteronski immortalized you in the foyer trophy case, after you were voted Reformee of the Year 1996."

Estrella chortles, running her calloused hands through her stiffly molded hair. "I hardly think that title's still relevant," she muses.

Willow drops her bags on the floor beside the winding staircase, her eyes traveling the enormous walls. "Pretty impressive place."

"And this is just the foyer." Estrella stares at the redhead. "You should change before Madame Maclay arrives. That outfit makes you look positively sterile."

Willow shakes her head. "This is my only dress. Maybe you've forgotten; upon entering the seminary one must give all wordly possessions to those of less fortune." She looks thoughtful. "I didn't have anything very wordly back then, either." The redhead kneels to dig through her bag, pulling out a collection of mismatched fabrics. "I could make something, but not before..."

"Ahem!" The sound of a throat clearing echoes through the foyer.

Willow closes her bag and jumps to her feet, startled by the sound. Her eyes catch a glimpse of a gorgeous woman descending the south expanse of the staircase. Estrella lifts her hand to close the redhead's salivating lips.

Madame Maclay descends the stairs to the foyer landing, her eyes tracing the redhead's frame. She winces at the sight of the drab uniform. "You must be from the seminary." Striding forward, she waves her hand in front of Willow's outfit. "This will not do, the children will be down soon. Can you find something more appropriate?"

"This is all I have, Mrs. Maclay."

"Madame," the blonde corrects coldly. "I suppose that outfit will suffice for now. "She turns to the butler. "Please acquire some fabrics for Miss Rosenberg, I hear she has talent for design."

Willow opens her mouth to correct her employer but is interrupted by an unfamiliar sound. Tara is strumming what appears to be a pocket-sized African thumb harp. The pounding of footsteps vibrates from above. A cascade of children trickles down the stairs, filing into the yoga asana (starting) position.

Tara raises her instrument again to conduct introductions. She plucks three notes and the tallest girl, with great concentration, forms the Contorted Duck. Tara nods in approval.

"Dawn, 16, the Contorted Duck." The teenager groans, dropping her leg to the floor, and steps back to allow the next child to come forward.

Tara plucks another note.

"Spike," a boy lisps. "14, Bicycle." He rolls onto his back kicking his feet wildly.

Tara winces as he awkwardly tumbles back into line. She plucks another note.

"Cordelia, 13, The Bird." A gaunt brunette forms the posture with smug confidence. She lingers in the position until Tara clears her throat dismissively. With a curtsey she rejoins her siblings.

Willow's eyes widen as the children present themselves in such a rigid, militant fashion.

"Buffy, 12, Mountain." The girl stiffens into an erect form.

"Sven, 11, Camel."

Willow blanches as Sven turns, revealing a camel-esque hump on his back. Estrella whispers, "poor little dude. Apparently he was born like that." The butler chooses her words carefully. "From what I'm told, he was a hard one to squeeze out."

Willow clenches her pelvic muscles. "Ouch, Kegal must have been working overtime."

Another pluck emerges from Tara's fingertips.

A little boy pounds forward proudly. "Xander," he winks. "7, The Woodchopper." His arms swing as he backs into line.

Willow wonders if these introductions could possibly get worse. She turns to watch Tara continually plucking the final note. No one responds. She plucks again.

Xander continues his chopping motion, looking uncertainly at his mother.

The youngest finally steps forward, recognizing her cue. Tara plucks aggressively, looking sternly at the young girl.

Anya clumsily forms her position. "Anya, 5, I swallow."

Tara looks horrified. Estrella fights the urge to laugh, instead gently corrects the young girl. "I _am_ the swallow."

Anya stares blankly. "Whatever."

Tara plucks a final tone and Estrella springs into action. "Dinner is served. Follow me."

The crowd files into the dining room. Estrella directs Willow to her seat and leans over to ignite the flames on the table candles.

Willow notices that the extra-large purple four-wick candle, intricately hand etched with a triple Goddess, is unlit. She makes no comment but finds this odd.

Halfway through her serving of whitened miso with enriched protein dumplings, Spike leans over to whisper to the redhead. "The purple candle isn't lit! Quick, light it before mother notices."

She looks at him, drawn to his panicked expression. He points at the untouched matchbox.

Sensing his anxiety, she leans over to light the nearest wick. The crowd gasps. Tara's eyes immediately fix on the flickering flame.

"Snuff it out now!" Her voice is urgent. "Xander, my snuffer. Quickly!"

The family scatters to help the blonde. Willow, in the midst of the confusion, notices the children trying to hide giggles.

"Miss Rosenberg, I understand that you are new here but that candle is special." She pauses to compose herself. "I-I… t-that candle is the candle that should never be lit. Never, and I do mean never, light that candle again."

Willow, despite hating the scolding, can't help but find the blonde's stammer endearing.

Dawn jumps up from the dinner table as a doorbell rings. "That must be my study buddy."

"Your study buddy? Perhaps you should do less buddy and more study." Madame Maclay suggests.

Dawn clears her throat. "Um, yea. I'm teaching her German and she's helping me finger that high G on the sax."

Willow watches amused.

A shrill voice cuts the silence of the room.

"_You wait little key jammed tight in a door  
For someone to figure out what the hell you are for."_

Dawn realizes that Janice has, in her impatience, burst into song. The familiar round face is pressed to the dining room window.

"_You're like a klepto left to roam in a store  
You've taken so much but you just want more. "_

Dawn pales and turns to her mother. "May I be excused?"

Madame Maclay, distracted by the lyrics, doesn't respond. Dawn rushes out before Janice, her study buddy, can continue. She pulls Janice from the smudged glass and passionately echoes the words.

"_I just want more..."_

Janice folds her hands to her breast.

"_You are lipstick going on dykey,  
Baby it's time to think  
Better beware, be canny and careful,  
Baby you're on the brink."_

Janice loosens the belt of her cargo pants.

"_You are lipstick going on dykey,  
Your ass is lookin' fine.  
Eager young lads, will rip off their pants  
To give you a real good time."_

Janice grabs her and pulls her into a dirty dance.

"_Totally unprepared are you,  
To face a world of men  
But timid and shy and scared are you,  
To tell all of your kin."_

Their faces linger close to a kiss. Dawn pulls away but this doesn't faze the singing Janice.

"_You need someone - I've got a U-haul - moving you on your way  
I am dykey, always been dykey, come with me and be gay."_

Dawn responds, quickly growing in confidence.

"_I am lipstick going on dykey,  
I know that I'm naive  
Fellows I meet may seem like a treat,  
But really they're bad for me  
I am lipstick going on dykey,  
I've read the **Monologues**  
I'm not a prude,  
I'm seldomly rude,  
How can our love be wrong?"_

She glances at Janice, hoping for compassion.

"_Totally unprepared am I, to face a world of men  
Timid and shy and scared am I, to tell all of my kin  
I need someone - you've got a U-haul",_

She pokes Janice in the chest,

"_- moving me on my way,  
You are dykey, always been dykey, I'll come with you and be gay."_

Janice walks over to Dawn, kisses her quickly, and runs off into the rain, leaving the 16-year-old with a lovesick smile on her face.

_888888888888888_

The rain outside pounds down and droplets fly in through the window. The redhead sits on her bed staring at the flowchart on her laptop. Slowly, she adds each of the children and their ages to the document.

**Dawn – 16  
Spike- 14  
Cordy- 13  
Buffy - 12  
Xander- 7  
Anya – 5**

She pauses, confused. "What was that boy's name? The one with the hump. Oh, darnit! I'll change it later."

**What's his name – 11**

"The kids are so old," she thinks. "Yet Tara can't be much older than me. She has got to be around 20-something…"

A knock on the door interrupts her thoughts. Estrella enters, arms loaded with bundles of different colored fabrics.

"Madame Maclay asked me to bring these to you." The butler hands the bundles to Willow.

The redhead looks at her, askance. "What am I supposed to do with these?"

"You're the designer," Estrella points out. "Design something!"

"Actually," Willow says sheepishly, "I design websites! Anyway, do I dress like I have any idea what do with these?"

Estrella looks amused. "Good point. Well, good luck on figuring something out."

"Hey, Estrella," Willow asks casually, "is it too prudent of me to ask how it's possible that the mistress is so young with so many children?"

The butler smiles. "It's not my place to say anything, but this family is more complicated then you think."

Estrella leaves and Willow returns to her laptop. She continues typing about each of the children when she notices Dawn climbing through her window.

"You know, if you want a bath, there's an easier way to do it."

Dawn paces nervously. "Will you tell Mother?"

"No, I'm not going tell her."

The teenager seems relieved.

"Dawn?" Willow asks tentatively. "Were you out in the rain taking a 'bath' alone?"

The girl looks at her, wanting to say yes but feeling compelled to tell the truth. "No, I wasn't."

The redhead nods. "Why don't you go put these on," she says, handing her a nightgown from her closet, "and then we can have a talk."

Dawn dries herself and dresses, then comes back into Willow's bedroom.

"Have a seat," the redhead pats the bed. "Can I help? You look kinda lost."

Dawn blushes. "I'm not sure why I want to tell you this. I just… I need to tell someone."

"What is it, Dawn?"

"Willow, I think I'm in love."

"In love is good," the redhead grins, pressing her tongue through her teeth.

Dawn closes her eyes, hoping for courage, and her words spill out. "It's with a girl. I love a girl, Willow! Oh man, I said it." She looks panicked. "Are you going to tell on me?"

Willow is surprised by the girl's admission. "No, of course not, Dawn. I won't tell anyone but I think you should. Maybe you should discuss this with your mother."

"My mother?" Dawn almost laughs. "I don't think she wants to know about me. She… well, we're not her real children."

Willow looks shocked but remains silent. She'd already guessed something of the sort.

"Daddy already had us when he married Tara. Sometimes I… I feel like we're a burden to her. Now that Daddy is gone she has no reason to care about us. I mean, it's not like she gave birth to us or anything."

"Dawn," Willow says gently. "I haven't known your mother long. I haven't known any of you for long, but I can tell that she cares about you. I just know it. She loves you all. And I think she'll be supportive."

Dawn wipes her tears, looking at Willow with hopeful eyes.

"Just consider telling her. When she gets back from her trip. Just think about it, okay?"

Dawn nods and leans in for a hug. A flash of lightening illuminates the room. Moments later a clap of thunder echoes through the darkness.

Two sets of feet pad down the hallway. Xander and Anya rush into the room and press themselves against the doorframe. Another burst of thunder frightens the smallest Maclay children into the redhead's oversized bed.

"It's only thunder, children." Willow's soft voice comforts them. Another booming sound vibrates through the room. Buffy and Cordy rush through the open door and without hesitation leap into the bed. "Should I expect the boys?"

Xander shakes his head. "They're too brave."

Simultaneously, lightning flashes through the bedroom window and thunder crashes. Spike and Sven stand sorrowfully in the hallway. They notice the girls and Xander huddled on the bed. Puffing out their chests, they strut towards the others.

"Just coming to check on you girls," Spike lisps. "As the eldest Maclay male I felt compelled to protect the fair maidens."

Willow acts impressed. She turns to Sven. "And you, sir? What are your duties as second in charge?"

The redhead can see his scarlet cheeks in the darkness. "W-well," Sven stammers, "I wanted to say sorry for before. The candle. It was my idea. I'm sorry if it made Mother mad. She's not going to fire you, is she?"

"Ah." Willow sees him struggling with the apology. "No, she isn't. And I forgive you. I'm sure you meant no harm."

He nods eagerly. "It was just to see what she'd do. Anyway, I thought y'all might need some vittles." He lifts his white apron and presents a basket filled with sausage and crusty bread rolls. "And if you get parched," he reaches around the door, "I brought a jug of ricemilk."

Outside, the raging storm vibrates loudly. The two Maclay boys jump into bed.

Willow offers comfort, bursting into song.

"_Laptops on networks and unlimited usage  
Bright flickering modems transferring high-speed  
Volumes of journals bearing new technology  
These are a few of my favorite things. _

_Digital cameras with infinite storage  
Cables and Printers,  
A dawn of a new age  
I-mesh and Napster for songs we can sing  
These are a few of my favorite things. _

_Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes  
Websites that support my fan-fic habits  
Titanium shells for my new technology  
These are a few of my favorite things. _

_When the net dumps  
When my drives freeze  
When I must reboot  
I simply remember my favorite things  
And then I don't feel...so blue."_

The children shift uncomfortably, sensing their mother's presence. Madame Maclay is standing against the doorframe, arms folded across her chest. "Sausage and bread after 9pm. You children should know better. The two hour rule has been violated." Her blue eyes darken. "To bed, now!"

As they leave, Xander stops to give the redhead an encouraging squeeze and Dawn rubs her shoulder.

Tara paces the large room. Her fingers examine a rainbow sticker on Willow's laptop. She picks up a snow globe and shakes it, then puts it down before the flakes can fall.

"I don't want you to think badly of me, Miss Rosenberg." She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind an ear and looks at the redhead. "I'm sure where you came from, manners and rules are passé." She looks pointedly at a stray piece of sausage on Willow's pillow. "In my house, however, things must be a certain way. The children have suffered so much loss and I want them to feel safe. Rules and order are the only way to achieve stability."

Willow dusts crumbs off the foot of the bed and gestures for the blonde to sit. "Madame Maclay, I assure you that stability for children is my middle name!" Her lower lip trembles. "But there was thunder and lightening. And frightened children were everywhere! Before I knew it, there was sausage and bread and crumbs and some kind of un-palatable milk, and my impulse was to sing."

"Miss Rosenberg…"

"Please call me Willow," she pleads with shimmering green eyes.

"W-Willow." Tara looks away. "I'm going away in a few hours so I must be frank. This is your first day here. This is my first trip away from the children since the accident. I barely know you. I need to know that you're not going to burst into song every time your bed gets crumbs. Your papers from the school leave a lot of my questions unanswered."

Willow, who 24 hours ago couldn't care less about this position, suddenly has a great need to defend herself and her job.

"Ask me anything. I'll tell you my whole life story. Well maybe not the whole story but I can summarize. You tell me when to start and when to stop."

Tara, who has been sitting on the edge of the bed furthest from the redhead, moves into a more comfortable position. "Do you have much experience with children?"

Willow nods eagerly. "I taught a computer class in the basement at the seminary. There were kids in it. Well, they were technically kids."

"Technically?" Tara raises a curious brow.

"Umm, how to say this. Their school uniforms were kinda _www dot practically naked dot com._ They were way less interested in my experience with computers than…" she looks at Tara. "Umm, should I continue?"

Tara smiles. "No, I think I know what you mean. Do you feel that you can handle seven children while I'm away?"

"Will Estrella be here?"

"She rarely leaves."

"As long as I don't have to dress them or feed them, we'll be just hunky dory. I've got three summers of Outward Bound survival training. We're good for just about anything. And you can see from tonight that if they need me they feel comfortable to come to me."

"Yes, I can see that. When you wake in the morning I'll be gone. Any of your needs, Estrella can take care of."

"And what about your needs, Madame Maclay?"

Tara stands up. "My needs are irrelevant. Good luck, Willow." She leaves the room.

**Two weeks later **

Willow and the children sit beside the lake. Sven serves sausage and crusty bread while the children sip freshly squeezed carrot juice. "Your mother returns in a few weeks."

"We can't wait." Dawn rolls her eyes.

The redhead notices the negative tone. "Shall we prepare some sort of coming home recital?"

"With music?" Spike lisps. His excitement surprises the others.

"Yes, music and maybe dancing."

"Like a big production number?" Cordy perks up. "I could be the star."

"Do any of you know how to sing?"

"Sing?" Buffy kicks the dirt at her feet. "We're not like that. No one in the house sings. It makes mother sad."

"Maybe your voices could make her happy." Willow huddles them together. "Let me teach you what I know. Can you sing me anything?"

The children look at one another.

"Well, it's not really a song." Cordy explains. "It's as close to music as Mother allows."

Willow stares nervously as a deep sound resonates in unison.

"_Ohmmmm…"_

"That's almost musical!" Willow bursts into song.

"_When you read you begin with - A - B - C  
When you sing you begin with DO - RE - MI  
DO - RE - MI , DO - RE - MI  
The first three notes just happen to be DO - RE - MI  
DO - RE - MI - FA - SO - LA - TI..._

Willow sees the look of confusion on the children's faces. "Sorry, the nun that taught me how to sing was a bit past it. I'll try to break it down for you.

_DO – a ball of unbaked bread  
RE – hope your Mother's having fun  
MI – the random seminary chick  
FA – the distance to the sun  
SO – re didn't make any sense  
LA – makes as much sense as re  
TI – I recommend cinnamon and apple  
That will bring us back to do, go knead it _

_Dough, a ball of unbaked bread  
Ray, hope your Mother's having fun  
Me, the random seminary chick  
Far, the distance to the sun  
So, ray didn't make any sense  
La, makes as much sense as ray  
Tea, I recommend cinnamon and apple  
That would bring us back to DOUGH!"_

They continue singing. Over the following weeks Willow guides them to performance perfection with constant practice, even in public during the day trips she organizes.

The day of Tara's return arrives at last.

Turning off the highway the blonde stares out of the car window, nervous about being home.

"The children must have changed so much." She turns to the passenger beside her.

"Seven certainly is a lot." The man shrugs.

"They should be ready for your tutelage, Riley."

He smiles enthusiastically. "How about you, Tara? Are you ready for my tutelage?" He slips a hand on her knee.

The blonde pushes his hand away. "You're here for the children. My needs are irrelevant."

"Nothing about you is irrelevant to me." He winks.

Tara glares until he moves his body away from hers. "The children and only the children are relevant to you."

She slows as kids run wildly across a nearby field. "Look at them play."

Riley gushes. "They look like they're having a wonderful time. When I was that age my mother had to practically drag me in by the neck. Always wanting to bounce about like a puppy I was."

Tara makes no attempt to hide her revulsion. "Discipline and order create stability."

"Running and jumping make fun."

"Maybe for a puppy."

Riley barks, sending Tara into a silent rage for the duration of the drive.

The car arrives at the house and Estrella greets them at the front door. Tara reaches for the thumb harp. Her fingers play the sound meant to summon the children.

Silence answers the call. She turns to Estrella. "Where are the children?"

"Madame, they are with Miss Rosenberg."

"Yes, Estrella, I expected that much. But where are they?" She slipped the harp into her pocket. "How do you summon them?"

"Miss Rosenberg has fashioned the house with this two-way wireless communication system." The butler reveals the handheld device. "Works like a charm."

"Will you please request that they return home?"

Estrella contacts the redhead, informing her of Tara's return. The children burst loudly through the door, singing and laughing.

"Children!" Tara scolds. The sound of her voice rips through the foyer and they quickly move into position.

"Children, this is Baron S. Riley Finn."

INTERMISSION

If you can find the magic foyer, Sven is selling crusty breadrolls. (If you're lucky perhaps a bit of sausage too.)


	2. Chapter 2

Previously on **The African Thumb Harp**

Estrella contacts the redhead, informing her of Tara's return. The children burst loudly through the door, singing and laughing.

"Children!" Tara scolds. The sound of her voice rips through the foyer and they quickly move into position.

"Children, this is Baron S. Riley Finn."

**Section Two**

They snicker at the name.

"What's the S for, sir?" Spike lisps.

"Well boy, I'm glad you asked." Riley slings his arm around the child's shoulder. "It's Sergeant. I'm a sergeant in the secret order of the Republic of Yoga Masters." He opens his jacket to reveal his chest covered in velvet ribbons. He strokes his hand over each, enjoying the texture. "This pink one here is for accomplishing my Yogi status."

Spike steps back into line. "He's a Yogi," he whispers to the others. An echo of groaning sweeps through the group.

"More instruction, mother?" Dawn complains. "And a man, none the less."

"He comes highly recommended, Dawn." Tara looks for the redhead. "Where is Wil… Miss Rosenberg?"

"She's putting away the sticks." Sven giggles. "She's not very good with the stick, mother, but she certainly understands flexibility."

Tara perks a curious brow. "Sticks?"

The children all exclaim in delight. "Come outside, we'll show you!"

After much hesitation on behalf of the adults, the group cross the large courtyard and reach the sport oval.

Cordy is about to explain the rules when they hear:

"_Yodelling on a hill was a lonely comp-nerd  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo  
Out-of-tune was the voice of the lonely comp-nerd  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo."_

They turn the corner and find Willow clad in sweats, her hair tied back messily, swinging a hockey stick aimlessly whilst singing to herself.

The children smile, enjoying the sound of music.

"Miss Rosenberg?" Tara eyes the slightly dirty, singing redhead. "The children mentioned sticks but I didn't even think of this. I had no idea you'd enjoy something so…" she wrinkles her nose, "…messy."

"It's awesome." Willow wonders briefly what type of stick Tara had considered.

"Well, I see that you've been busy while I was away."

Willow notices a tall gentleman beside the blonde and moves closer for an introduction. "I have been quite busy, Madame Maclay." She eyes the man. "As have you." She wipes her hand across the leg of her sweatpants. "We haven't been introduced. I'm Willow Rosenberg. I care for the children."

Riley grasps her hand tightly. "Baron S. Riley Finn."

The group snickers again.

He stares, bewildered. "I'm here to tend to the needs of the Maclay family. Whichever members require my services."

Cordy moves forward. "Baron S. Riley," she lifts her leg up over her head, "I've been practicing every day."

"That's wonderful, child." He pats her head tenderly. "We'll do some work tomorrow." He turns his attention to Tara. "Shall we, Tara?"

"We shall never, Baron S." She steps closer to the redhead. "Will…Miss Rosenberg, might I have a moment with you…alone?"

The children scatter onto the playing field. They begin a casual game of lawn hockey. Riley watches the skilled performance with intense concentration.

The blonde and redhead move onto the patio. Willow quickly becomes aware of Tara's nervousness. "Miss Rosenberg…"

"Madame, if you would please call me Willow." She touches the blonde's shoulder. "Please?"

"Willow," Tara hides her nervousness by turning toward the playing field. "I can see that you have found a way into the hearts of the children. I'm impressed." Her blue eyes connect with green. "I'm curious to know how you've avoided their volumes of nanny torture."

"I've been around." Willow motions toward the bench, guiding the blonde to sit. "They haven't tried anything I haven't already been caught doing." She watches Xander clumsily tumble across the playing field. "I'm just giving them a nudge in the right direction."

"Nudging, hmm?" Tara is distracted; seeing her children so happy brings her a forgotten joy.

Willow observes the blonde's delight. "Hey, why don't you play with us?" She stands excitedly. "C'mon, they'd love it."

Tara looks down at her hands. "Actually, I haven't played since college. I'd make a fool of myself."

The redhead ignores the excuse. "Every modern day chick must know the rules of hockey." She presses a stick into the soft hands.

"But, but…" the blonde protests, "look at what I'm wearing!" She had on a purple fedora and a dress made of burgundy silk. Over the dress was a silver vest, adorned with blue felt kittens.

"You'll make them smile. Focus on that, Tara." Willow wonders if she stepped over a line using Tara's name so informally and waits for the blonde to reprimand her. But there is no response.

"WOOOOOOO! Spikey, you go son!" The blonde is suddenly up and running toward the oval, cheering for her eldest son.

"Oh my Goddess," Willow whispers, "I hope I didn't screw up her mind."

She saunters over to where the Baron S. is sitting for a better view of the game.

The children, after reacting with disbelief, are fighting to be the one to explain the rules to their mother. Anya rushes to fetch another stick.

Willow smiles to herself, feeling satisfied that her work is bringing mother and children closer.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Willow turns to see the Baron S. looking impatiently at her.

"I asked you a question."

A very long pause ensues. Willow can't stand it. "Are you waiting for me to do or say something? 'Cause I'm getting that impression."

"I want you to answer the question. I asked if you are a lesbian."

Willow hides her shock. "Yes. How did you know?" She wonders if she drooled too obviously over Tara.

"Hey, I didn't become a Yogi for nothin'." He grins. "I sneaked a peek at her file on you, during the long car ride. There were little hearts and rainbows and 'I love Willows' all over the sheet. She sure doodles a lot!"

"WHAT?"

He giggles. "Joking. But the file did say that you were at a school for questioning girls. And the headmistress wrote something about your dykey ways not having been completely cured."

Willow presses her lips together.

Riley notices her bemusement. "Oh, don't worry, the headmistress also said you'd be great at the job. The file wasn't all about your sexual, er, problem."

"Gee thanks, Baron S." Willow is obsessing over his joke about the doodling. Her heart had believed him, and now it struggles to process the truth.

Tara rushes over to the table, children clinging to her every limb, panting and grinning. "I scored!"

Xander agrees, eyes wide. "Mother is so good at that game, Will. You should play with her sometime."

The Baron S. snorts. Willow looks fiercely at him and he makes a motion of protecting himself with a shield.

Tara turns toward the redhead. "I'm game, if you are?"

"Perhaps, but not while the kids are on the field. You look like fierce competition."

"How about tomorrow afternoon?"

The redhead doesn't hesitate. "I'd love to."

"It's a date, then?" The blonde twirls the stick in her hand.  
Willow runs her fingers across her lips. "It's a date."

_88888888888_

The red plastic sphere rolls across the hockey field. Tara tumbles in front of the redhead. Willow grunts as her ass slides across the dewy grass. "Nice one, Madame." The redhead twists to her feet.

"I'm a bit rusty." She snaps the sphere with the tip of the stick, and flips it into her hand.

Willow examines the lithe body before her. "I don't see any rust, Madame Maclay."

"Willow, I'd like you to call me Tara. When you attach that title to me I feel very old." She hands the stick to the redhead.

"Well you can't be that old. My guess is about 27."

"Good guess." Tara smiles. "Sometimes the burdens of life make me feel about 80."

"Well, if I look like that when I'm 80, I say bring it on." The redhead collects the hockey gear into the duffle bag. "Madame… I mean Tara," their eyes lock, "how is it that you've come to mother all of these children?"

"Oh, Willow," she reaches to carry the bag, "I was very young. Their father was my father's best friend. When their mother died I was the only woman of age to take over her duties."

"How did she die?"

They continue to walk across the playing field. The blonde sits beside a large oak tree. Willow sits beside her.

"It's almost as tragic as Humperdink's." She lowers her face, paying respect to the dead.

"Humperdink?" The redhead hides her giggle.

"Humperdink Maclay, the children's father."

"Oh. Did you love him?" Willow leans forward, hoping the answer that she wants is the one that she gets.

"Love," she shakes her head, "love was never a factor. I was a convenience. Nothing more."

"What do you mean?"

"Humperdink lived a secret life." She struggles to reply, questioning whether she should reveal all the family secrets.

"Secret?" The redhead's eyes widen.

"Yes. Hump, er, Humperdink," she corrects quickly, "had issues with having his name shortened. Schoolyard trauma," Tara informs her. "Anyway, he never loved me and he never loved his first wife. He could never love us because he…didn't swing that way."

Willow stares at the blonde blankly.

"He was gay, Will. And totally in the closet." Tara blushes, feeling as though she has vicariously come out through her dead husband.

The redhead bites her lip. "So he married that first chick and then he married you, just to cover his inner fruitiness? Man…." She thinks of the children she has been taking care of and how they must have been created. "That's gotta have sucked!"

Tara shrugs. "Yeah, I guess. Though it was pretty convenient for the both of us." She blushes again, and wonders if she has given away too much.

Willow looks at her curiously but doesn't call her on it.

"Tara, if I may ask, how did his first wife die?"

The blonde looks away. "Oh, you can ask, but it's a crazy story. You see, and this is probably going to shock you, she was also a professional Yogi. Her boss, Riley, organizes these yearly yoga conventions. Actually, that's why he's here now."

"Riley, as in the Baron S., in charge of a con? He strikes me as… incompetent, at best."

Tara continues telling the story rather than arguing the trueism of Riley's incompetence. "Uh, she took it upon herself to run a class on being an Ice-arian. Surviving on a diet consisting only of chipped ice. One student was an undercover tabloid journalist. Pretending to be inspired, he encouraged her to take her proclaimed 'month on ice'."

"She didn't," breathes Willow.

"She did. After a week her digestive system started to feel the stress. Living solely on water is hard enough for the body to deal with, but when it's frozen water it just…": she trails off.

"Ouch. That's really sad."

"I remember her, she was a really sweet woman. After her death, Hump had a bit of a breakdown. He became reclusive and just plain weird; obsessed with safety. His wife had been so healthy and fit, yet she was dead. So he made those kids train to become Yogis."

A look of comprehension spreads over Willow's features. "So that's why…"

Tara nods slowly. "It was Hump's wish. For me to learn the teachings and keep the children training for the years to come. At first it seemed, well, excessive. But eventually it became common practice. Now, not a day goes by without it." She looks searchingly at Willow. "Be honest. Am I a crazy old widow, obsessed with her husband's legacy of yoga?"

Willow pretends to think about this. "Well, you're not old."

Tara playfully swats her.

"Am I interrupting?" The Baron S.'s loud voice makes them jump.

"No, we were just resting before returning to the house." The blonde stands from the grassy spot. "Did you need something?"

"I was about to begin the session." He touches the silken badge on his chest. "You'll never believe the people that have come to sample your techniques."

Willow perks with excitement. "You have techniques?"

Tara smiles invitingly. "Willow, would you like to come see for yourself?"

The redhead tosses the gear bag over her shoulder. "I'm right behind you."

They enter the huge ballroom and the redhead stares at the crowd in the room. She looks down at her grass-stained sweatpants. "Should I change?" she asks nervously.

Tara turns back toward the redhead. "Oh no, come up front near me."

"I'm new to this," she grins, "be gentle." She follows the blonde to the front of the group.

Tara rolls out her rainbow mat. "Try this on for size."

Willow lowers herself to the floor and then turns to Tara to compliment the rainbow mat. The blonde is in deep conversation with an elderly man. He is dressed from head to toe in white muslin cloth, and sways to music that only he seems to hear.

"Willow," the blonde gets onto all fours beside the redhead, "meet Aspran. He taught me Grade four yoga."

Willow greets the man distracted; out of the corner of her eye she can see the children meditating along the wall. She frowns as she sees Dawn open her eyes and slip outside.

"I'll BRB," she whispers to Tara, and follows the young girl.

She finds Dawn alone on the patio, struggling with a yoga posture.

Willow is about to say something when she sees the other children trickling onto the patio and surrounding Dawn.

"Ha!" shrieks Xander. "You know you're not supposed to do The Brave Warrior until you're 20!" His pink face is gleeful.

"Yeah," Cordy chimes in. "You're doing it wrong, anyway."

The children start to argue and yell, each trying to correct and embarrass Dawn.

"HEY!" Willow rushes over. "What's the problem? What's with the Dawn-bashing?"

Spike lisps passionately that they are only trying to fix her terrible posture before their mother catches her doing yoga so badly.

"I see a way to settle this." Willow rushes into the house and returns seconds later, breathing heavily. She types furiously until she finds an online yoga manual, looks up the position, and then smiles triumphantly. "I found the position. None of you are right!"

She joins the sweaty bunch and starts to correct them. She grabs Dawn's left arm and pulls it upward, "no, you've gotta lift it higher!"

Willow is so absorbed that she doesn't notice Tara's presence until she feels a soft hand on her shoulder.

"Actually," Tara announces, "you're all wrong."

With a sweeping hand gesture she spreads her rainbow mat onto the concrete patio and invites Willow to stand beside her.

"Bend over." Tara murmurs her words in Willow's ear.

Willow gulps but obeys.

Using the redhead as a model she teaches the children proper form. "First, mountain pose." She straightens Willow into perfect vertical alignment. Tara's hand travels to the redhead's waist. She whispers softly. "Breathe, Red."

"That's hard to do with your hand there, Blonde." Her breath hitches as Tara's fingers travel up her ribcage.

"A steady heaving breath will help maintain balance." Tara guides the redhead. "Now we move into a standing forward bend." She holds Willow steady.

They continue slowly moving into the posture. The children watch with less enthusiasm. Spike yawns and returns inside to the class.

"You need to lift your leg a little higher." The blonde's fingers run along the length of Willow's thigh, resting firmly above the knee. "That's wonderful, but don't let your arm fall." Her hand brushes across Willow's breast as she raises the drooping arm. "Can you feel it?"

"Oh, I can feel it."

Dawn clears her throat. "I think we can all feel it."

The children return to the session in the ballroom. Baron S. Riley notices that the two women have not returned and dismisses the class for water refreshment. The crowd moves into the dining hall. He watches through the window.

Tara helps Willow shift onto the other leg, tenderly supporting the pose.

Baron S. rubs the pink satin ribbon on his chest. "She'll never be interested in me."

Estrella walks up behind him. "Did you really think after all of this that she'd switch teams for you?"

"A man can dream." He turns into the room. "I can see that Madame Tara has her sights set on something in red."

"She'll never see you as anything other then her Yogi, Sir."

"I can see that now." He rolls his yoga mat, stuffs it into a shoulder bag and walks out. He informs the crowd that the afternoon session and the following days sessions will move downtown to the 'Gristle and grit' pub.

Tara teaches Willow how to move gently between postures. Their bodies connect. Each struggles with awakening passion.

Willow stands from her forward bend. She loses her balance and falls into the blonde's arms. Their eyes lock. Willow can feel her breath hitch as Tara tightens her hold on the redhead's waist. "Your technique is very good."

"Thank you." Tara's eyes shift to the soft red lips. "You learn quickly."

"I'd love to learn more."

The blonde smiles at the redhead and begins to walk towards the door. She turns around and smirks at Willow. "Oh, I intend to teach you"

Willow watches her leave and sinks down onto a bench nearby, tracing every second of the previous moments in her mind. "I think I'm in love," she says happily.

The Baron S. walks up the garden path. "You seem a little short of breath, Miss Rosenberg," he says, stopping in front of the bench where she is sitting.

Willow eyes him with a mix of curiosity and bemusement. Baron S. Riley never failed to amuse her in some way or another.

"Yeah," she responds, "I am kind of tired."

The dignified Yogi stares at her for some time until she begins to shift uncomfortably. "Isn't it interesting," he says casually, as if it is just occurring to him, "that Estrella is always here? Not only that, but she gets no real pay and has very little purpose. If I didn't know better…" he trails off, looking through the window where they could both see the beautiful blonde chatting with her honored Yogi, Aspran.

The redhead bites her lip, suddenly feeling very unsure of herself. " If you didn't know better, what?"

"Oh, nothing," The Baron S. says nonchalantly. "Look, I must be going. It was lovely meeting you, Miss Rosenberg." He holds his velour-gloved hand out to shake hers.

The redhead nods numbly and shakes his hand. She watches as he walks away and turns her head to look through the window again. Tara is sitting on the couch laughing, while Estella jokes from the doorway.

"I can't believe this," Willow says, convinced that the Baron S. is right. "I was so sure she liked me…"

She sighs, grabs her laptop bag, and enters the room. Most of the crowd has dissipated so there is no place for her to hide. Thankfully the blonde is in deep conversation with yet another yoga friend.

Willow can't help the smile that forms on her face. "She really is a social butterfly." The smile quickly turns into a look of extreme pain as she remembers that the blonde is already taken.

The house is eerily quiet as the redhead makes her way up to her room. She takes out her bag and begins stuffing her belongings into it. "I guess I don't belong here. Miss Heteronski was right. I can't deal with this gay thing," Willow mutters to herself. She opens her laptop and types a short note to leave on her bed. She prints it out and places it down, grabs her bag, and makes her way out of the house.

It's midnight when she reaches the Seminary. She throws a rock at her old roommate's window and is shocked when the girl abruptly pulls down the blind.

"Bit late for pebble tossing, isn't it?" Miss Heteronski's voice booms through the night. There's a loud clanking as the old woman climbs down the stairs and approaches the steel entrance gate.

"Hey," Willow says meekly, "I need my old room back."

The matron looks smug. "'Fraid that's no longer possible. Francesca is now sharing with the new girl and," she raises an eyebrow and gestures at the dark room, "she clearly doesn't want to give her up."

The hypocrisy of this school, which preaches heterosexuality by day and encourages bed-sharing at night, suddenly infuriates Willow. "Just give me a bed, I'm not in the mood for this."

Miss Heteronski shrugs. "Fine, but in the morning you're going straight to therapy or back to Madame Maclay. Your choice."

Willow is taken to a dusty room, which seems not to have been used for some time, and is told to change into the uniform pyjamas. She can hear Christian inspirational music playing through the thin wall as she changes, and can't resist internally contrasting it with a Yogi's Nepalese oboe CD.

"Lights out, girls," she hears Miss Heteronski say. She peers into the hallway and sees the matron pacing about with a candle in her hand.

The candle reminds her of Tara's face on the night that she reprimanded Willow at the table. She sighs longingly. 'I'm whipped,' she realizes.

To her surprise, she hears her name being called softly.

She opens the door to see Mr Puddlewife shivering in the hallway, clad in a pair of Care Bears Nighttime Stories pyjamas. They barely cover his ankles, she notices, welcoming him into her room.

He sits on her bed and looks at her gravely. "I hear you ran away from your job. Whatever was the matter?"

She shakes her head. "It seems so stupid. I can't even explain it. I just had to get away."

"From what?" His voice is gentle. "Or should I say, from whom?" He looks around the small room. "You certainly came to the right place if it's you that you want to escape from."

"No, that's not it!" Willow answers quickly and then hears the defensiveness to her tone. "At least, I don't think so. It wasn't me that I was escaping. It was Tara."

"Things didn't go well for you there? I must say, I'm surprised."

"Well, no," she blushes. "They went the opposite; really well. So well that I fell in love with her."

"I see." Mr Puddlewife sinks into thought until Willow grows impatient.

"What do you see?"

"I see myself at your age." His voice grows dreamy. "It was 1984, and I lived in Switzerland. It was so white and pristine. I met a girl named Susette. She wanted me to be her first, er…"

Willow, who had been groaning internally until now, looks interested. "First f$k?"

"Yes."

"What does this have to do with Tara and I?"

He scratches his scalp. "Umm. Actually, it doesn't. I was just reminiscing."

Willow calculates. "Wow, you're a patient man." She stands up and strides across the room. "I love her and, soap opera-ish-ly, she doesn't love me. I had to get away."

"She doesn't love you? Did she tell you this?" He shifts to pull the wedge of twisted pajamas from his leg.

She shakes her head. "I saw her. With the butler."

"Essie?" He tries to hide his laugh. "Tara and Essie. Willow…" He reaches to comfort her. "Essie is married."

"She's what?" The redhead begs for an explanation. "Tell me."

"Estrella left the seminary, as you know, but what you didn't know is that she left with Ms. Heteronski's prized pupil."

Willow's jaw drops.

He closes her mouth and continues. "You'll never see Essie with anyone but Cuntstantine. Their commitment is for life. Besides, Tara is like a daughter to her."

The redhead drops her head to her hands. "What have I done?"

"Rest here tonight, dear. In the morning you can return to the Maclay house and talk with Madame Tara."

She flops backward and her head falls onto the dusty pillow. The haze drifts up causing them both to cough frantically. Mr. Puddlewife closes the door as he walks out. Willow cries herself to sleep.

_Part Three sooooon_


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three (final!)**

The redhead wakes to a thunder of chanting and rolls over, trying to ignore the sound. As she moves closer to consciousness she clearly hears her name. Slipping on Mr. Puddlewife's purple fuzzy Care bear slippers she walks toward the window. Just outside the seminary gate a small line of children stand with signs made of blaze orange poster-board.

"Free Willow!" the children chant. "We want her back! We want her back!"

Each unanswered call raises the decibel level. The redhead quickly dresses and runs out to meet the rowdy crowd at the gate.

"Children?" She scolds their presence.

"We had to get you back, Will," Dawn says passionately.

"Why did you leave us?" Anya whimpers.

"Mother doesn't know we are here! We snuck out!" Spike adds with a lisp.

Willow looks at the children and shakes her head, "I didn't think I could stay. Now I realize that was just me being a doofus. Can you guys ever forgive me?"

The children look at her and Buffy pipes up, "does this mean that you're coming home with us?"

Willow nods. "That it does."

Tara is sitting on the deck. Her heart is heavy and she feels ill. She replays the previous night in her head over and over, remembering how close they had been. "I just don't understand it."

Suddenly she hears singing and seven faces appear over the hill.

"Children?" she questions, shocked that they would be there, and then sees Willow behind them. Her heart leaps.

They stop before her.

"Please go inside and practice your yoga," she orders.

The children leave and Willow stands awkwardly looking at her. Neither speaks for a while.

"I'm glad you didn't leave me. Er, us," the blonde says shyly.

"I could never leave you. I'm sorry I even tried," the redhead whispers, making her way towards Tara. "Look, I got you something."

Willow hurries to remove a small charm bracelet from her pocket. "Every charm represents something. That's a computer, that's a hockey stick, that's a walkie talkie for our cool intercom system, that blob there is supposed to represent your African thumb harp, but dagnabbit, they don't make charms of them! The pancakes represent the first breakfast, and this… is a heart… because, Tara," the redhead takes a deep breath, "I think I love you."

The blonde stares, open-mouthed.

"Mother, I'm going to go study with my buddy. At her house this time," Dawn shouts down the hallway.

_888888888888_

Dawn stands outside the door to the small apartment. She has been mustering up the courage to knock for the last seven and a half minutes.

She can hear voices inside and struggles to make out the words.

"I'm off to the store, Jan," says a woman that Dawn assumes is Janice's mother. "Can you make dinner while I'm out?"

"Sure," she hears Janice say casually. "I've got nothing better to do."

Dawn hears footsteps approaching the doorway and panics. Hoping she'll think up some good reason for being there, she knocks before the woman discovers her.

"Did you invite anyone over?"

Janice acts surprised. "Maybe it's my friend Dawn, dropping off the math homework." She strolls over to the door and opens it. "Hey Dawn, thanks for the fave."

Dawn isn't sure what to say. She smiles hesitantly at the older woman. "Hi."

The woman doesn't smile. "Hello." She pointedly leaves the door open, waiting for the brunette to leave. Dawn just stands there.

"Janice, don't forget dinner, ok? Bye, honey," she kisses her daughter's head and then motions at the door for Dawn to leave.

Dawn is shocked at the woman's rudeness. "I just have to pick up my folder from your room, Janice."

Janice turns to her mother. "Don't worry. I'll show her up to my room and then she'll leave." She sighs exasperatedly. "Trust me, ok?"

Finally the woman leaves.

Dawn and Janice burst into laughter. "Dude, at least learn some subtlety!" Dawn exclaims.

Janice avoids eye contact. "Dawn, sweetie…" she moves closer to her.

Dawn mistakes the gesture as intimate and closes her eyes.

Janice moves away abruptly. "Look, mom isn't as cool about me being a lesbian as I let on," she says slowly. "She is really suspicious about everything I say and do. I can't even watch a show with a gay character if I want to stay in this house, she told me."

Dawn puts her arm around her. "That sounds like a threat. Would she really kick you out?"

"If she catches me doing anything 'unnatural', yes. You saw the way she looked at you. I can promise you she's going to accuse me of homosexual activity tonight."

"I don't know what to tell you. It's not right that you should feel threatened in your house." Dawn's lip trembles. "Hey, if she does kick you out, you'd come straight to me, right?"

"Right." Janice leans over Dawn and holds her tightly.

"We should make dinner. That's not a homosexual activity, is it?" Dawn wants to see her friend smile, but Janice's face is in her lap and she has no intention of moving it.

Eventually they get up and make dinner. The tofu is almost done when they hear a key in the lock.

"Shit."

The woman enters with a collection of shopping bags, an unreadable expression on her face.

She looks at Dawn. "I should have known not to trust you. Please leave my house."

Dawn turns to Janice, who gestures at the door sorrowfully. Deciding that to stay would only tempt fate, she leaves.

As she walks home it begins to rain. Usually she loves the summer rain, finds it refreshing in the heat, but now she can't stand it. She runs down the street and, as soon as she gets home, rushes to her room.

The gangly brunette rips off her wet clothes. She towels off her hair and slumps on the bed. "Janice, what have I done?" she murmurs.

"What _have_ you done?" Tara's voice breaks the weeping girl's pity fest. "I just received a call from Janice's mother. Is there something that you'd like to tell me about your 'study buddy'?"

"Well," Dawn hesitates.

"Yes?"

"Oh mother, I don't even know where to start." She runs into the blonde's open arms.

Tara comforts her. "Tell me everything, sweetie."

"Well, you know how we study together?"

"Yes, Dawn."

"I went over there tonight to do math and her mother was so suspicious about me being there." The brunette looks confused.

"Honey, you do realize that we are in the middle of summer holiday?" Tara suppresses a smile.

"Oh?" Dawn tries to cover her tracks. "We really like math. All that adding and subtracting."

"In high school advanced geometry? I'll bet there's a mountain of first grade arithmetic."

"We like to be together."

"Yes, I know."

"No, mother. I mean we really like to be together." She pulls away from her mother's embrace to continue. "We care very deeply for one another. I think that we're in love."

"Have you talked about this with her?" Tara sits on the edge of the bed. "Have you been dealing with this alone?"

"Up until Willow came here, yes." She notices her mother's questioning glance. "But I'm not confused or anything. I know exactly how I feel and I want to be with Janice. No matter what."

"I understand." The blonde pats the bed, summoning the child to her side. "We'll figure this out, sweetie."

"I really need to call her." Dawn rests her head on her mother's shoulder.

"Dawn, I'm afraid you can't do that."

"Why not, mother?" Dawn springs away in panic.

"She's been taken to the seminary."

Thunder crashes. Lightning flashes. Dawn throws herself down onto the bed. "NO!"

Tara tries to soothe her daughter but she continues to cry.

"I have a plan." Tara has to improvise her words.

Dawn looks up at last.

Her mother looks thoughtful. "I think we should tell the others. You can choose what we do and do not share. I think Willow has a few connections at the seminary. I bet we can help Janice."

At the sound of Willow's name, Dawn thinks of something. "Wait a minute, how did you hear me when I came upstairs straight away? You only ever come up here to say goodnight to us."

Tara stands up. "What are you talking about? Come on, let's get this plan underway."

A smile spreads over Dawn's face. "Let's see, the kids are all downstairs having rhubarb cooking lessons with Estrella. The only person unoccupied is Willow." She looks appraisingly at her mother.

Tara stammers, "she needed help sewing."

Dawn giggles. "Bullshit, you can't even braid hair. Fess up, mother! Something's totally going on there-ARGH!"

She stops as Tara starts to tickle her. The blonde grins. "Hey, Janice's mother wanted me to send you to the seminary too. At this point I must say her offer is tempting!"

When they finish wrestling they go to Willow's room to ask her to join a family meeting, and then assemble the other kids and Estrella.

"People, we have a crisis," Tara reveals. She looks at Dawn expectantly.

Dawn takes a deep breath. "My best friend got into a big fight with her mom. She was put in a seminary because her mom thinks it's the best thing for her. But I know that Janice will be very sad there," Dawn pauses, "and she would be so happy if you helped me get her out."

Everyone exclaims at once.

"The same seminary?" Spike lisps. "The one that we rescued Willow from the other night?"

"Shh," says Cordy, a bit too late.

Tara isn't surprised. "I figured you all had something to do with that. I found sausage in Sven's snow boots and reached that conclusion."

Willow speaks up, looking shy but determined. "I'll definitely help you, Dawn. Miss Heteronski hasn't seen the last of my redheaded temper."

Tara smiles appreciatively.

Estrella flexes an arm. "It's time to show her exactly how cured I am!"

"We've still got the poster-board from the time we freed Will," Dawn remembers.

"But I'm an old lady," Willow whimpers. "They had to let me out. Janice is a minor."

Tara suddenly gasps. "The Baron S.!"

"He's gone, remember?" Sven reminds her.

"Well he's at the pub. That's not exactly gone." Tara explains. "He is the solution to the entire dilemma."

Willow steps to stand beside the blonde. The children notice the manoeuvre and are pleased.

"How can Baron S. help?" Willow's voice soothes the blonde.

"I'll try to sum it up." Tara motions the children to sit on the floor. "You see…

"_There was a strange little groupie at a yoga con  
the year was 1987  
Her hair was streaked with red  
And her name tag said,  
'Yogi, come show me heaven.' "_

Tara twirls her finger beside her ear.

The children respond, _"Cuckoo, cuckoo."_

"_S. Riley rubbed his badge, got a hungry itch  
that only Miss Streaked Hair could scratch,"_

The children without prompting reply, _"Cuckoo, cuckoo."_

"_274 days later  
With a push and a scream  
A gift named Janice did hatch."_

The children are too shocked to reply. Willow squeaks, _"cuckoo, cuckoo!"_

Tara looks pensive. "Then he said '_So long. Farewell. Auf Wiedersehen. Good bye'_." She waves as she impersonates the Baron S. " '_I hate to go but babies are a fright_.' "

Tara pauses, seeing the shock in her children's eyes. "I'm sorry children but yes, Janice was abandoned as a child."

"It's not that, mother." Dawn explains. "Baron S. has a child, and she's my girlfriend?"

"No, Dawn." Anya interrupts. "It's that…

Xander interrupts. "Janice is your girlfriend?"

Dawn looks directly at the boy. "Yes. And Willow is mom's."

"What?" Every jaw in the room drops. Crickets chirp.

Willow looks at the blonde for confirmation.

"Yes, children. I love Willow." She reaches for the redhead's hand. Their fingers interlace and they stand strong together.

"Cool!" Sven bites on his bread roll.

"Great." Tara relaxes as the children approve of her choice.

Willow smiles. "Better then great."

"Perfect." The blonde smiles.

"Okay, if the two of you can stop making googly eyes, can we get back to my girlfriend?" Dawn crosses her arms and gives her trademark pout. "So Baron S. is gonna get her out?"

"I'll call him and see what he'll do to help us." Tara and Willow leave the room.

Dawn smiles and taps her feet happily. "I'll go make some room for her in my closet."

"In your closet?" Buffy smirks.

"Does this mean mother and Dawn are Lebanese?" Anya eyes them curiously. "Like Estrella?"

"Lesbians!" Dawn corrects.

"They are all really gay." Cordy spouts.

"Gay meaning happy?" Sven wipes the crumbs from his sleeve.

"Happy like little bunnies?" Anya squirms.

"No!" Spike rolls his eyes. "Gay like she does it with a girl! My friend Clem told me all about it during one lunchtime." He looks at Dawn with newfound respect.

Tara rushes into the room, cheeks flushed. "Put on raingear everyone. Quickly, or I'll reintroduce this old pal," she takes the thumb harp from her pocket and waves it threateningly. "We have an appointment with Miss Heteronski."

As they leave the house Dawn complains loudly. "Mother, what did he say?" she pleads. "What's happening with Janice? I'm a grownup you know, you have to tell me what's going on."

Tara just smiles and ignores her.

When the group approaches the school they find the Baron S. waiting by the gate. Tara nods at him, a grateful smile on her face. "I really appreciate this, Riley," she says, calling him by name for the first time.

He smiles at her. "There was no way I could say no. Maybe I can never have you," he glances at Willow, "but I honestly do care."

The gates open as they approach.

"It seems they are expecting us," the Baron S. says.

The children eye the big building they had seen a few days earlier. This time they find it intimidating.

Dawn shivers. "This place looks evil."

They stop before the door and Willow knocks. She can hear the inhabitants inside going about their daily routine.

Miss Heteronski opens the door. "How can I assist you?" she asks in a cold voice.

The Baron S. responds with a smile and holds his hand out in way of greeting. "Hello! Baron Sergeant Riley Finn here. You may have heard of me. I am an acclaimed yogi from the Midwest region. I've been teaching since…"

He is stopped by a glare from Tara.

"Oh, er, I have come to retrieve my daughter, Jasmine Fruglontin."

Dawn leans over and whispers in his ear, "Baron Stupid, her name is Janice!"

He opens his mouth to correct himself but Miss Heteronski, having heard Dawn, interrupts. "And why, pray tell, would I release one of my girls to a father who does not even know her name?"

Riley looks at her blankly. "Hey," he says, "we all make mistakes."

Miss Heteronski snorts. "Why should I believe that you are even her father? Have you any proof?"

Riley grins widely. "As a matter of fact, I do!" He pulls out photos of him with Janice's mother in a drunken stupor. "This," he says, smiling, "is a few hours before conception. If you would like to see, I have pictures of the birth and the aftermath."

Everyone present blanches.

"No, no, that won't be necessary!" the matron says quickly. "Come in, all of you"

The group follows her down a long hallway and into a large room.

Miss Heteronski rings a bell and a man sticks his beret-clad head into the room. He smiles gleefully when he sees Willow.

"Mr. Puddlewife, please call Janice. I need her immediately!"

The man turns quickly and leaves.

Two minutes later a uniformed Janice enters. She sees Dawn and looks hopeful.

"You say," the matron begins, "that you want to take Janice away. You'd know, if you bothered to read the fifty-page manual that was sent upon admission, that there are particular guidelines regarding the removal of someone from our care before the date of release. We believe in reinstating the bartering system. No one may leave early without us receiving something in return."

The Baron S stares at her blankly. "So I have to…what? Please clarify for me. We didn't learn such things in yogi school," he says, flashing a winning smile.

Miss Heteronski grimaces. "You must offer something in return for her!"

"Oh, I see." He gazes around the room. "What could we offer in exchange for such a jewel?" he wonders aloud, sizing Anya up.

Dawn glares. "None of my siblings!"

"Ah! Goobers!" The yogi's eyes are glued to the confectionary machine behind him.

"Goobers?" the matron sneers.

"Why yes, what self respecting person would not want a packet of malted milk balls?" The Baron S. walks over to the machine and puts some change into the slot. Out falls a cream colored package which he studies. "C-H-O-C-O-L-A-T-E," he reads slowly.

Tara blinks, wondering if she has made a mistake in requesting his help.

Miss Heteronski glares at him. "Mr. Baron, I must inform you that, one, Goobers are chocolate covered peanuts, and two, they are not appropriate for bartering."

Willow realizes that she may be able to help. She whips out her laptop and logs into the seminary's website, remembering hacking the manual years before. She searches the word barter. "AH HA!" she exclaims. "The bartered item must be, in _your_ opinion, of equal value to the child you are trying to get released. That means that Baron S. can trade anything that he chooses. According to your very own manual!" She grins at Miss Heteronski. "You gotta love those bartering days!"

The matron eyes the redhead as though she were just noticing her presence. "Miss Rosenberg," she says through gritted teeth. "You do realize that you are aiding and abetting, and unless you turn around and leave right now you can never come back!"

The redhead looks at the lady and turns to admire her family. With resolve she declares, "oh, I don't need to come back. I know who I am now and I couldn't be happier." She walks over to Tara and takes her hand proudly.

The matron's face reddens but she remains silent.

"Hello!" an impatient Dawn, having recovered from the touching moment, whines. "Can we do something about Jazzy over there?"

The Baron S., still wearing a goofy smile, holds up his goobers. "Here you go, Miss!"

Miss Heteronski, now the color of a sunburnt tomato, looks fiercely at them all. She takes the goobers and throws them down on the table. "You may get your things," she says to Janice, trying to keep her voice low.

Everyone follows. Willow and Tara bring up the rear.

"Miss Rosenberg," the matron calls to her, "you know that you can never come home."

Willow smiles. "What are you talking about? I am home!"

Tara squeezes her hand and the two women hurry to catch up with their group.

Baron S. stops outside the gate. "And you thought this ribbon was just for yoga." He rubs the silken pink fabric.

Janice throws her arms around the man. "Thank you Baron S., I mean. Father."

"Call me Baron S. child. Let's not get carried away." He flattens his rumpled robe. "You may call me during the three day period just before the full moon. I usually have my mobile phone turned on for 15 minute intervals before meditation sessions."

"Thanks, I think." The teenager waves farewell and walks toward the family.

They make their way back to the Maclay house. Janice settles in to the room adjoining Dawn's. The boys fight over who should get to sleep in the next room. Buffy decides she will not give it up.

Willow stands beside her bedroom window, watching the children play outside. A knock interrupts her. "Come in."

The doorknob jiggles. "I'd like to but it's locked."

The redhead opens it. Her eyes lock on the blonde standing before her. Tara raises the purple four-wick candle. "I brought a candle. It's extra extra extra extra flamey."

"But isn't that the…?"

Tara presses her free hand against the redhead's lips. "Shh."

Willow closes her eyes to the sensation.

The blonde explains. "I've always been alone and fighting to be who I am. The very first job I ever had was for a candle maker. She taught me how to dip hot wax and mold it into light." She pauses remembering the freedom she found in that little candle shop. "This is the first four-wick candle I ever made. I cut the wax from a hive in the forest and melted it over an open flame. I paid for it with my first paycheck."

Willow wipes the tear from Tara's cheek.

"T-t-this candle is a symbol of who I was. Of who I am. When you lit it," she pauses, trying to find the words. "I knew in that moment that we were connected. Like touching for the first time." She blushes. "I'm sorry if I upset you. Seeing it lit for the first time, knowing that people were sharing what I had so closely protected, was very hard."

Willow apologizes through her pressed lips. Tara pulls her hand away. "I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"You didn't."

"So then are we …?" Willow looks hopeful.

"We are. And we always will be." Tara carefully lights the candle and then pulls Willow toward her and gently kisses her. They dim the lights and move to the bed.

"_Climb ev'ry mountain  
Search high and low  
Follow ev'ry by-way  
Every path you know _

_Climb ev'ry mountain  
Ford ev'ry stream  
Follow ev'ry rainbow  
'Till you find your dream"_

The End

(Disclaimer: The snippet we used of 'Climb every mountain' is word for word from the musical BUT, in our defense, is a lesbian-fic's dream!)


End file.
